Unlock the Truth (5 page)

“Who would try to kill me?” Dena asked again. She took the glass from him and drained it. Irma bustled over and retrieved it.

“I’ve no idea. But we’ll find out.” Zeke relayed the information to the deputy on desk duty.

“There was a report made ten minutes ago from Johnston’s place,” the Deputy said. “Some kids were out hunting. Cyril said he chased them off the property. Too far away to identify anyone. Said he thought they might have had BB guns.”

“I see,” Zeke said, cell phone pressed to his ear. Dena turned her face upward. He nodded a few times as he listened.

“We’ll send someone out,” the deputy said. “File a report. It’ll be a while, we’re short on staff.”

“No problem, she’ll be here for the morning. Thanks.”

Zeke shoved the phone in his pocket. Dena’s color had returned, and she no longer trembled. “It might have been kids hunting rabbits, using BB guns.”

“Rabbits?” The haunted look faded from her blue eyes as she stared at him. “Hunting, yes…I suppose so.”

“Or, you could have poked your nose into other people’s business, gotten someone riled up.” A flicker of recognition passed over her face. He knew she’d asked questions; his friend from Starbucks had called last night.

“I…ah,” Dena said, and rubbed the side of her face. “I asked questions—”

“Like?”

“I visited the Rancho Almagro PD. And I questioned a gal at Starbucks in La Quinta. And someone at the hotel.”

“I don’t want you doing that.” It was worse than he thought. She’d covered quite a bit of territory in one night. “Leave it to the cops. Okay? I’m trying to clear my name, the family name.” Zeke shoved a hand through his hair and gave her an exasperated look. “I’ve done some investigations of my own.”

She sat taller, her eyes wide and bright. “And?”

“These people at Three C’s are employees, and friends—”

“You’d cover for them?” Her eyes narrowed.

“I’d like the chance to investigate without you messing things up. I don’t want to cause a suspect to run.”

She smiled then. “Soooo…you do have a suspect?”

Zeke turned away from her inquisitive stare. “What’s this?” He indicated the apparel in the normally pristine foyer.

“I’m returning to L.A. later this morning, to the office. Could I change after we ride?”

“Oh, sure…yeah.” Guilt for the thoughts he’d had of her trying to twist his arm to sign the contract reminded him he’d become distrustful. “Can you give me a list of everyone you questioned?”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “If you help me, I’ll help you. Exactly who did you tell that we had an appointment today?”

“Forget it.” Zeke ignored her excited words. He’d told Irma and Rocky and Manny. “Besides, it was kids with BB’s—”

“No it wasn’t. Go check my car. Better still drive down the road, there’ll be a shell casing or two—”

“Look,” Zeke said, and tried not to show his exasperation. He needed to show some compassion, even though she irritated the hell out of him. “You’re going home. Forget about investigations. Leave this to the cops.”

“Yeah.” Dena snorted. “The cops have been a great help—”

“Come on.” He helped her rise. “I’ll put your things in the guest room. You relax. I’ll check the area, if everything is okay, we can ride over near the hotel site but we can’t access it. Then I want you to promise to leave town.”

“How long is this ride?”

“About fifteen minutes, unless you want to give Susie Q and José a run for their money.”

She moistened her lips with a flick of her tongue then rubbed them together. Tension radiated off her.

“You’re not a proficient rider, are you?”

“It’s been a while.”

Zeke shook his head and strode into the guest room. He opened the shutters and the closet door. He couldn’t believe his actions, like he wanted her to stay over. He’d almost fluffed the damn pillows. He shook his head again at his stupidity.

“I’ll meet you on the verandah. Twenty minutes,” he said gruffly, and hurried to find Irma. He needed a quieter horse.

When Zeke got back, Dena sat at the outside table on the back verandah, her mouth tight, face pale. Either she was upset that no cop had yet taken her report, or the thought of the horse had her scared as hell.

“Irma said Manny wouldn’t mind if you rode his horse. She’s a sweet thing—”

“Okay. Thanks,” Dena said, and stood. “Let’s go.”

They walked across the verandah and down the path. Maybe he’d been wrong about her mood. She matched his stride, her arm brushed his every so often, and he caught the scent of vanilla and something else far too likeable. Relief flooded him when she began to walk ahead. There was just so much closeness a man could take without reacting.

“Did you find anything back down the road?” she asked.

He’d seen the tire marks where she’d gotten into the soft sand on the shoulder. He’d found no shell casings. A hole in a rock, where it sure looked like a bullet could have lodged and been gouged out with a pocket knife, looked decidedly fresh. The area had been swept clean.

“No, nothing really…I found the spot where you’d parked.”

When she frowned and looked like she was ready to spring into an attack, he continued. “I believe you though, that it was no BB gun. I checked out the side of your car.”

“Thanks,” Dena said. “We’ll see what the cops have to say.”

He nodded.

She stopped, touched the flower of a yellow Japanese oleander. “You have a little piece of heaven here.”

“Yeah, until you get to the relentless heat of summer.”

She smiled, her real smile, the one that lit her up from inside.
Who would shoot at her, and why?

She stopped short. “What is that building?”

Zeke almost ran into her and put his hands out, caught her at the waist. Heat radiated from his palms and up his forearms. He widened his eyes, dropped his hands, and backed away.

“It was originally a guest house,” he said and kept his voice casual, although his heart pounded like a drum. “Then my mother’s art studio.” He kicked a couple of loose river rocks into a flowerbed and stuck his hands into his jeans pockets.

“How long ago did you lose her?” Dena asked.

He frowned at the mountain ridge. “A year ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Dena stopped at the padlocked gate, craned her neck and read the ceramic plaque. “Posada del Gato Negro, I like that. What kind of art did your mother do?”

“Oil paintings…local landscapes.”

“Nice. Do you have any on display in the house?”

He hated small talk, especially about his mother. “Most of her paintings are in the casita. I’ll show them to you later.”

He frowned. How odd that he’d invited her to the casita. A police siren sounded. In the distance red and blue lights flashed, and the car moved so fast a cloud of dust billowed behind it. He felt his palms go damp and his throat dry up. They wouldn’t sound the sirens and drive like maniacs to get a report from Dena. This wasn’t about her. This was about him.

“That car is headed this way. We’ll have to go back.” How much of this could he take?

****

Irma let a red-faced cop out the back door, and Dena tensed as she approached the steps to the verandah. The deputy was on the chubby side. He pulled his dark glasses off, stuck them on his head, and swiped his forehead with the other hand.

“Morning, Dave,” Zeke said, and stepped forward with his hand out. “What’s up?”

The deputy ignored Zeke’s outstretched right hand and put his hand on his holster. Dena took a step toward the cop.

“Move back lady, this is between me and Zeke.”

Did he think Zeke took a shot at her car? She read the name on his beige uniform. Stanton. The cop she’d spoken with over the phone. Funny, he’d sounded younger and slimmer. He wore a thick black belt, a gun in the holster on the right, a baton on the left, a Tazer in the cross-draw position.

“Do you have a warrant?” she asked. He couldn’t harass a citizen. She’d taken enough evening classes in criminal law and private investigation to know that.

Zeke raised his hand. “It’s okay. What’s going on, Dave?”

Stanton waddled toward Zeke, and the closer he got the angrier and redder his face became. A vein in the side of his neck bulged. “You…you—” Stanton said. “You big city lawyers think you’re above the damn law—”

“Whatever it is, Dave, we can talk about it,” Zeke said, and indicated a bench. “Or we can go in, get a cup of coffee.”

“Susie!” Stanton said. The word came out with such force a little spittle flew from his lips. “Susie…they ID’d her.” Stanton’s eyes welled up with tears. He put his dark glasses on and ran a hand over his short brown buzz cut.

Dena pulled in a long breath. This was not good.

“What? What do you mean?” Zeke asked. His face had turned pale. Dena moved toward him, but Stanton got in the way.

“I’m taking you in,” Stanton said, his voice high-pitched.

“Who is Susie?” Dena asked, although she guessed it was the name of the woman they’d found on Thursday. Zeke had slumped onto a lower step. He rested his elbows on his knees and gripped his forehead with one hand, the other clutching the stair rail. She turned to Stanton. “Who is Susie?”

“Zeke’s high school sweetheart…isn’t that right?” Stanton kicked at Zeke’s foot.

That annoyed the hell out of her. “Deputy Stanton, you don’t have a warrant, and—”

“Who are you, his lawyer?”

The deputy appeared to be running on pure adrenaline. Stoked to the hilt. She had to calm him down.

“Get up,” Stanton said to Zeke. He pulled out handcuffs.

Dena faced Stanton again. “You need to state why you’re arresting Zeke. And you haven’t read him the Miranda's.”

“Who
are
you?” Stanton asked, turning to look her up and down. “This is none of your business. You’re not his lawyer.”

“I’m Dena Roman. Zeke’s girlfriend.” She blinked hard as once again her impulsiveness took over. She didn’t care. She stood her ground. “I demand an explanation.”

Stanton glared down at Zeke. “You never said anything about dating anyone—”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Zeke said, with a flicker of a smile. “This is a small town, but believe it or not, I don’t have you on speed dial.”

Stanton’s lips moved but no sound came out. Zeke eased his body up and towered over him. “Dena’s right,” he said firmly. “Go back to the station and get a warrant.”

Stanton backed up, red-faced and flustered, like he’d just realized the mess he’d created. He blinked hard, raised both hands. “I don’t know…I just—” He waved a hand toward the road. “I just came from…you know…Susie—”

“I’m really sorry to hear about Susie,” Zeke said softly. “But I’ve got my rights.”

Stanton gulped. He turned and almost ran up the steps and across the verandah. Dena stood next to Zeke, and stared at the back screen door that slammed after Stanton entered the house. Sadness washed over her. Both men had lost someone they’d truly cared about. She knew all about that.

The sound of Stanton’s car driving away snapped them both out of their reverie.

Zeke turned. “I suggest we go riding right now, unless of course, now that we’re dating you intend to stick around.”

“Are you sure we should do this?”

“What? Date?” His tone teased, trying to make light of an awful situation, but he still looked pale.

“No.” She looked up at him. “I mean yes, well…go over to the hotel site.” She wanted to go, desperately, especially as she’d hoped to get information from Stanton. That chance was now shot to hell. Getting to the hotel site with Zeke might be all she had going for her, but she wouldn’t insist, wouldn’t put him through that now, if he didn’t want to go.

“It might be your only opportunity.” His voice softened. “You said it’s important to you.”

He’d put her needs before his own. She blinked hard. That was sweet of him.

He took her hand. “Don’t worry about Stanton. He can be odd like that. Thanks for back there, you calmed him. He acted on impulse but he’s a decent cop, and he adored Susie.”

She swallowed hard at the sensitivity in his green-hazel eyes, the way his voice cracked when he said Susie’s name. His hand felt warm, comforting.

“I knew he needed to be distracted.”

“Poor Susie, I wonder how long ago it…well, when it happened,” he said softly. “Last time I saw her mother, she’d said Susie had moved away and they hadn’t been in contact.”

Dena pulled in a quick breath and followed him. They passed the pool and the casita on the approach to the stables. Zeke stopped, and a pained look crossed his face.

“The last time I saw Susie, she was drunk and we argued.”

“Oh, that’s awful, but—”

“It gets worse. Stanton had been called to the bar to break up the disturbance. It had to have been about four months ago.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and strode into the stables.

Dena slowed her pace. She couldn’t believe she’d gone through all of this today and not once had a feeling of panic. It felt so right to be here, to be taking action. Could she risk telling him the truth? After a few minutes she went inside. A horse whinnied and another nickered.

Zeke sat on his haunches, his hands inside a metal bucket. The horse he’d just ridden was still saddled. He looked up, held out slices of apple and small carrots to her. “Want to give José a snack?”

“Oh, um…sure. Which one is he?”

“The old Criollo.”

She took the apple slices. “I’m not familiar with the breed.” She wanted to distract him, get him to talk about something he loved, and she sensed that subject would be horses.

He sat back on his heels. “My father’s family had him delivered from Argentina as a surprise for my sixteenth birthday.”

Dena gave him an impish grin. “Do horses live that long?”

“Hey.” He tried hard to look offended but laughed instead. “I’m not that old. José is twenty-two. He was two when we got him. He’s in the last stall.”

She liked Zeke’s laugh.
So, he’s thirty-six, a year older than me.
She walked around, sniffed at the hay, the straw, the horse smell of the stable, and enjoyed it all, even the odor of warm manure. She handed out treats to the first two horses. Zeke moved toward her and the sun streamed in from the row of small windows high above them. His blonde hair glinted with threads of gold. She pulled in a sharp breath.